A Patch
of Nanay

In a small barangay where houses were packed together like cakes on an eyeshadow palette, lived a little girl named Tress who loved her mother, Nanay very much.

Nanay was not like the mothers you might see in tv shows or magazines. She was covered, from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head, in a thick, curly, coat of deep, midnight-black fur.

To little Tress, this was the most wonderful thing in the whole world. Nanay's fur was softer than any velvet, warmer than any blanket, and smelled very strongly of Nanay. Tress loved Nanay's fur so much, she couldn’t fall asleep unless Nanay held her tight and covered her in her hairy warmth.

One afternoon, when the sun was highest in the sky, a stranger knocked on their door, seeking shade from the hot sun. When little Tress opened the door, she was terrified of the person standing before her. The woman was tall and thin, dressed entirely in a blood red uniform, and she carried a big, black handbag . She had sheet white skin, a tight, unsmiling mouth and hair the color of dried crops; a lifeless yellow, pulled back severely.

When Nanay came to the door, the woman’s eyes went wide with a look of sharp, clinical surprise. She didn't look at Nanay with wonder, but with a strange, worried frown. Tress, peeking from behind her mother’s furry knee, thought the woman looked less like a friend and more like a very angry, bloody ghost.

"Oh, my dear," the woman whispered, her voice like cracking ice. "We simply must do something about this."

Before Nanay could say anything, the woman swooped into the house. The scary red woman grabbed Nanay by her wrist and pulled her arm above her head.She circled a hand, covered in a thin, scented lotion, right onto Nanay's armpit. And after a few seconds, where the beautiful black fur had been, there was now a smooth, startling patch of pale pink skin. Tress let out a tiny gasp. Nanay’s fur was gone!

"Thats much better," the woman said with a satisfied smile. "You look much cleaner, and I’ve done away with that nasty smell too."

Nanay made a face that Tress had never seen before. Nanay’s shoulders sunk down, defeated.

“I'm sorry for the smell” Nanay apologized profusely to the woman.

After what happened that day, the scary red woman kept returning, week after week. Each time, she would leave behind new jars, vials and bottles. Nanay, who usually had the biggest warmest smile Tress knew, started to look worried. She began to spend long, long hours behind the closed bathroom door.

"Don’t wait for Nanay my darling," she would call out, "Nanay is making herself beautiful ."

One cold, thundering night, Nanay went into the bathroom. The water ran and ran, and the strong flowery smells of the scary woman’s potions seeped under the door. Tress waited and waited for her warm, furry cuddle, but her eyes were heavy with sleep and she could barely hold herself up anymore. Tress sleepily walked back to her room and finally drifted off to sleep.

When Tress woke up, the sun had not yet risen. She blinked her eyes open, expecting to see a mound of beautiful Black fur. Instead, she saw a complete stranger sleeping on her bed!

This person was hairless and small, dressed in one of Nanay’s nightgowns. Her skin was a faint, pale pink, and her hair-the hair that should have been deep, rich midnight-black was now the same dry dead yellow as the scary woman. The stranger looked naked and cold, and worst of all, she looked NOTHING like Tress’s Nanay.

Tress’s small heart pounded like a trapped bird. She let out a squeal of pure terror, scrambled across the floor, and dove headfirst into her toy chest, pulling the lid down tight. She huddled amongst her barely held stuffed toys, and waited for her furry mother to save her from the smooth, scary ghost.

Soft footsteps padded across the floor. The toy chest’s lid creaked open. Tress squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hide even deeper in the chest.

"Tress, my darling little girl," a voice whispered. It was a familiar voice, but thin and reedy.

Tress kept her eyes shut tight. "Go away!" she whimpered. "Where is my Nanay?"

The stranger sighed a shaky sigh. "I am your Nanay, my baby."

"No, you aren't!" Tress insisted. "My Nanay has black fur! My Nanay is warm and cozy and perfect!"

A moment of silence passed. Then, the stranger slowly raised the toy chest’s lid, raising her arm above her head

Tress cautiously opened one eye. Underneath the stranger’s arms, where her pink skin darkened, Tress saw it. It was a small, freshly growing patch of midnight-black fur. It was the first place that the scary woman rubbed away, and it smelled like Tress’s Nanay.

The sight of it filled Tress with a profound, sudden love. It was a secret sign of the mother she knew and adored. She instantly recognized her Nanay.

"Nanay!" tress cried with a happy shriek, tumbling out of the chest and leaping into the woman’s arms.

The newly-smooth Nanay hugged her baby tightly. She felt the fierce, unreserved love of her child and looked down at her prickly armpit. She realized she didn't need to be smooth and pale for anyone. She was perfect just as she was: unique, hairy, and loved.

The next morning, Nanay threw out all her vials and jars. She let her thick, midnight-black fur grow back, covering her in warmth and wonderful scent once more. And she never, ever answered the door again when the woman with the black handbag came knocking.